Death is Not the End?

Waking up is not something one expects after dying. Especially someone as average as me. Sure, I've read the fan-fictions and god accidentally kills you and begs forgiveness and gives you wishes in exchange. Let's be honest, though - if you accidentally stepped on an ant, would you care if it died? No? Then why would a bloody omnipotent being?

Anyway, back to my story. There's usually always a couple of ways you realize you were reborn:

1) You wake up in the womb with the memories of your past life

2) You wake up after hitting your head with your past lives' memories

3) Good ol' system

4) Meet ROB or god or whatever people are calling them nowadays.

I, being the unique reincarnated? transmigrated? person I am chose to take none of these options - my memories came to me while I sleep starting age 5, lasting till I turned 6. Each time I slept I gained around 2 months worth of memory, corresponding to roughly 60 years of life. Thankfully whatever brought me here spared me the memories of my first 5 years of life and the last years of my life. I wasn't doing much at those ages, let's be honest, and remembering those years would have been a waste of space (in my head). I didn't meet any god, therefore I got no wishes. I only knew I reincarnated in a different universe since this world was clearly different from the one I knew.

How did I find out?

Well, I'd be stupid not to realize once I saw a 100 foot mural in Times-fucking-Square of one deceased Captain America with his shield, candles surrounding a plaque honoring his heroic sacrifice in WW2.

That was two days ago.

I'm in the fucking Marvel universe.